


Lawful Discovery

by SoftObsidian74



Series: Kinky Detectives [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Ageism, BDSM dungeon, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub Undertones, Impact Play, M/M, Mild S&M, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Sadist!Bucky, Sub Steve Rogers, informal kink negotiation, newbie!masochist!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 17:30:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12752901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: It should've been a routine drug bust.  But, for detectives Rogers and Barnes, an unexpected discovery in a suspect’s home leads to other revelations.





	Lawful Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Created for MCU Kink Bingo, Square #I3: BDSM Playroom
> 
> Beta’d by UnicornMister

There’s an air of anticipation and danger as Steve, his partner Bucky, and the S.W.A.T. team wait for Natasha to say the magic words over the wire. 

_“Thank you. It’s been a pleasure doing business."_

Steve does the countdown soundlessly with his fingers. 1...2...3…

The battering ram punches through the front door and Steve’s shouting. “Everyone freeze! You’re under arrest!”

He’s so pumped full of adrenaline, it takes him a full five seconds to register it’s just an older couple who look like they could be the sweetest grandparents, and Natasha. She’s doing a perfect imitation of a slick business woman, with her coiffed hair, tailored black business suit, and flawless poise. Steve looks at her in bewilderment. She’s sitting calm as ever in a leather armchair, sipping golden liquid from a tumbler.

“Down, boys. Their henchmen aren't here and they’re not armed.”

The older woman looks absolutely scandalized. 

Natasha gives her a sympathetic pout. “Sorry we ruined your retirement, but heroin probably wasn’t the wisest business investment.”

The older woman sighs and turns to her husband. “I told you, Harold. Should have just moved with my sister to Florida, but no, you just had to have a little more to show off to your golfing buddies.”

The older man grunts and waves her off.

Bucky is turning tomato red from the effort to not burst out laughing. Steve has to turn away because Bucky has a way of infecting him, and laughing out loud right now would be completely unprofessional. 

“Their goons are in the Bronx, waiting for a big shipment of evidence,” Natasha informs. “1157 Commerce Ave to be exact, right Gertrude?”

The older woman sighs again and nods. “Yes that’s correct, dear.”

Steve waves out the S.W.A.T. “You heard her. Move out.”

Most of the team disperses, but Sam and Maria stay behind to read the elderly couple their rights. 

Natasha stands and approaches Bucky and Steve. “I’ll help Sam and Maria run these two down to booking. Might be a good idea for you two to stay and sweep the residence. Never know what else they may be hiding.”

Steve and Bucky exchange a glance and the decision is made. That’s all it takes for them to communicate these days. Steve’s never been so in tune with someone; sometimes it feels like Bucky is his other half. Of course Steve would never say that out loud, because Bucky would get the wrong impression. It wouldn't even be _wrong_ per se, it’s just that Steve doesn’t think his little crush would go over well as he has to work with Bucky. 

“You take upstairs, I’ll go downstairs,” Bucky says. “We’ll meet back here.”

Steve nods. “Sounds good.”

Halfway through his search of the master bedroom, Steve hear’s Bucky’s hoarse shout. Steve’s pulse picks up and he barrels out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time.

When he reaches the basement, he stumbles over his own feet. 

Bucky is standing in the middle of what could only be described as a dungeon, a very fancy dungeon. The floor is hardwood and most of the walls are lacquered brick. Down the center of the room are three large black free standing wooden frames. Each is situated behind the other, creating an inner tunnel with beams running across the top. 

Steve squints his eyes, trying to make sense of the hooks hanging from those beams. There are also hooks on each side of the frames and some of them have things hanging from them, like paddles, small leather whips, and silky rope. On the far left, there’s a leather bench that looks like a reverse leg lift machine.

Probably not an exercise machine though. 

Bucky lets go first. His laughter is loud and ricochets off of the walls, like they were specifically designed for that purpose. 

This place, this dungeon, has special acoustics. 

It’s the final straw and Steve’s undoing. He folds over as laughter shakes his body and brings tears to his eyes.

“What…in...god’s….name…” Steve can barely get the words out, he’s laughing so hard.

“These are someone’s grandparents,” Bucky coughs out, his face almost purple. 

When Steve’s laughter finally subsides, he wipes his eyes, and looks down the length of the room. There’s a huge cross perched on its side against a giant four poster bed that sits at the opposite end. Steve can’t keep his eyes off of it.

“Is that like a Satanic thing?”

Bucky laughs again. “What? Oh, no...no, look,” he says, striding forward like he’s about to give a lecture, which piques Steve’s interest.

“This here is called a St. Andrew’s cross,” Bucky caresses the smooth black wood. “Some people like to be strapped up to it.”

Steve's mind temporarily fizzles when Bucky pulls at one of the black wrist bands hanging by a short chain on the edge of the cross. 

“How do you know that?” Steve asks.

Bucky shrugs, but he’s averting his eyes and his cheeks are rosier than usual. “I do read, you know. It’s not like...totally weird. A lot of people are into this stuff. I just didn’t expect two old birds like them to be into it. Did you see them? They look like they could be my nan and grandpa.”

“Yeah, they do have that whole baking cookies and collecting stamps look about them,” Steve says.

He’s trying hard, and failing, not to stare at the way Bucky’s hand keeps caressing the cross.

“So uh,” Steve stammers. “When you say a lot of people are into this stuff…do, uh, do you personally know anyone into it?”

Bucky’s hand stops moving and he slowly raises his eyes to meet Steve’s. 

“Maybe.”

There’s a challenge in his stare that's making Steve feel weird, like he swallowed a kaleidoscope of butterflies and they’re trying to break loose in his chest.

Steve’s mouth is inexplicably dry all of a sudden and he licks his lips to moisten them. Bucky’s eyes track the movement like a hawk. Steve usually doesn’t like feeling like prey, but under Bucky’s gaze, it’s exhilarating.

“Uh…” he pauses, unsure if he should even continue this line of conversation.

Bucky raises one wicked eyebrow. “Steve, if you have a question, ask it.”

Usually, Steve finds Bucky's voice very relaxing, with its soft tone and smooth drawl. But right now, it's crisp and sharp like the snap of a belt. 

Steve scrambles to respond. "Have you ever-”

Bucky rolls his eyes and smirks. “Yeah.”

“But earlier, you were laughing,” Steve says in confusion.

Bucky chuckles. “I was just surprised s’all. There’s nothing wrong with being kinky. Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“I’m not knocking it,” Steve rushes to say so Bucky doesn’t feel judged. “I’m actually kinda curious.”

Bucky folds his arms over his chest. “No shit? Like how curious?”

There’s a charge in the air. There always seems to be one bubbling right beneath the surface whenever Bucky’s around, at least from Steve’s end. But this staring thing they’re doing makes it much more palpable. 

Steve wants… so much. The look in Bucky’s eyes says he may actually feel the same.

But then what? They’re partners at work. No matter how this turns out, Steve will have to see Bucky several days a week for the foreseeable future. It could all go to shit very fast.

As much as it pains him to do it, Steve has to keep a clear head. “Bucky, we’re on the clock...we can’t…”

Bucky’s answering smirk is dark and full of mischief. “Can’t what? Fuck?” Steve inhales sharply, surprised by Bucky’s bluntness. “You think I’m that easy, huh? Keep dreaming, pal.”

When Bucky moves past him, Steve’s heart sinks into his stomach. Not only does Bucky think he’s unprofessional, but Steve managed to insult him as well.

Steve clenches his eyes shut, searching for the right words. “Bucky, I’m sorry, I---”

“You’re sorry?”

Steve opens his eyes and his next words die on his lips. Bucky is standing in front of him with a wooden paddle in his hand. It has curious holes in it. 

Bucky slaps it against his palm a few times, studying his hand, like he’s testing it.

Steve swallows.

“You should be,” Bucky says. “Like you said, we’re on the clock. I would never fuck you _on the clock_ , Steve. What kind of guy do you think I am? Matter of fact, I think you owe me an apology.”

Bucky’s voice has gone soft again. Only this time there’s cold steel underneath it.

“Yes, I do,” Steve hears himself saying, baffled and intrigued by how the hell they got here and what comes next.

Something tells him the paddle will figure into it.

Bucky keeps tapping his palm with the paddle, and it’s kind of hypnotizing and giving Steve ideas. Like how it would sound tapping his ass. 

It takes Steve a moment to realize Bucky’s just standing there, waiting. 

“Uh, I’m sorry?”

Bucky begins walking towards him with that same smirk, his pretty blue eyes dark with intention. 

Steve’s a big guy and doesn’t intimidate easily, but right now it’s taking everything in him not to squirm.

“That doesn’t sound like an apology to me,” Bucky says. It’s tentative and there’s a playful dare in his eyes now. 

Steve’s eyes sweep over Bucky’s body and his pulse quickens. They’re both dressed in plain clothing, but Bucky doesn’t need a uniform to command attention. He’s smart, good looking, full of swagger, and boy, does he sure know how to wield a paddle. Steve isn’t well versed on bdsm or kink and this isn’t exactly the kind of flirting he's been fantasizing about. But they are in a really nice dungeon and Bucky is kind of offering to punish him. That has to qualify as flirting for kinky people, right? 

“How would you like me to apologize, exactly?” Steve croaks out. 

Bucky smiles. “I’ll give you two choices…you can bend over that bench against the wall and let me take it out of your ass.” 

Steve’s eyes pop as Bucky jerks his head over to the wall in the direction of the leather reverse leg lift thing. 

“Or,” Bucky pauses and extends the paddle so that it almost touches Steve’s chest. Unconsciously, Steve leans in to make contact. Bucky pulls the paddle back with a taunting smirk. "You could hold on to these beams here, and take your licks standing up.” 

Steve is still trying to process that this is really happening. That Bucky wants to paddle his ass, and what that means, and why hasn’t he ever considered someone giving him corporeal punishment a turn-on, but somehow Bucky makes it seem damn sexy.

“Ah, shit, I was just playing, Steve,” Bucky says apolegetically, his eyes downcast and his cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean to...”

And no, no, no. Steve’s stupid tongue tied mouth didn’t reply fast enough and now Bucky’s misreading it.

“I’ll take it standing up,” Steve blurts out, lifting his chin in spite of the twisty feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t even know what exactly it is he’ll be taking, but whatever it is, Steve wants Bucky to give it to him. 

Bucky's eyes search Steve’s face like he doesn’t quite believe him.

“Please,” Steve almost whispers. He’s never begged for anything in his life. His pride normally won’t allow it. But Steve has also never wanted anyone like he wants Bucky, and somehow, in this moment, it feels safe to show his desperation for it. “I’d like to apologize...properly.”

Bucky’s shoulders relax and his smirk reappears. He lifts the paddle up again, and this time, he lets it touch Steve’s chest. 

Steve holds his breath while Bucky slowly drags the edge of the paddle over his pecs, stopping to rest it against a very erect nipple. Even through his blue button down, the caress of the wood is making Steve hard. 

Bucky hums and resumes, tracing the paddle down over Steve’s abs to his waist, where he stops to tap Steve’s belt.

“Want me to take it off?” Steve asks hastily.

“No. I want you to breathe,” Bucky orders.

Steve huffs out a relieved sigh and chuckles at himself. “Sorry. I’ve never done this before.”

The look of fondness in Bucky’s eyes is surprising, but comforting. “I know. Are you sure? We don’t have to. We are on the clock and--”

"Do you want a proper apology or not?” Steve challenges, slightly annoyed by Bucky’s coddling.

Bucky snickers. “You’re such a punk, Rogers. Yeah I want it.”

When he pulls the paddle away, Steve almost pouts. Bucky moves past him, brushing his shoulder as he does. A shiver passes through Steve and he tries to turn to look to see where Bucky is going.

“Face forward,” Bucky orders. “Take twenty steps towards the door.”

Bucky’s voice is all steel now, and it’s so much better than in Steve’s fantasies. He steps forward and counts to himself, stopping at the middle frame in the center of the open tunnel.

“Hold your arms out and grip the frames.”

Steve does as he’s told. The wood is smooth and although the frame is too large to wrap his hand around, it’s big enough to fill his hand. It should feel weird, holding himself open in such a vulnerable way, but it doesn’t. The frames are steady and strong, and he feels safe here. It’s like a kinky trust fall and Steve wants to just let go and trust Bucky to catch him. 

Closing his eyes, he waits for Bucky to strike him.

And waits.

“Bucky?”

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” Bucky says, his shoes tapping on the hardwood as he walks closer. 

Steve stiffens in anticipation.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about you, just like this,” Bucky says with awe in his voice. “Well, maybe with less clothing.”

Steve smiles, a giddy feeling taking over as it sinks in that the guy he’s been pining over for two years has been pining over him too.

“Less clothing, huh? How much less?” Steve asks with a bit of smugness.

“Like naked, pal.”

“Oh.” Steve’s full on grinning now. 

“But…” Bucky sighs. “We’re still on the clock, and I am a professional, so I’m just gonna take my apology and we’ll head back to the station.”

Steve nods, trying to tamp down on his disappointment. “Right.”

“Ten strikes, and all will be forgiven?” 

Steve shudders as Bucky’s breath tickles his neck. He’s really close. “Sounds good,” he says about an octave too high to be casual. 

“Give me your safeword,” Bucky says.

“Stop?”

“So creative. And you call yourself an artist,” Bucky says, a smile in his voice.

“Are you gonna beat my ass or talk shit all night?” Steve huffs. “I’ve got paperwork to do.”

The sound of the hard flat wood striking Steve’s clothed ass produces a loud thud that bounces off the walls. It takes a few seconds before the sting of it spreads, but when it does, Steve gasps loudly.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks as he delivers another hard blow that leaves a flash of heat in Steve’s right cheek.

“Oh!” 

Steve’s entire backside is tingling, but it’s not bad. Not bad at all.

“Count them out for me, will you?” Bucky says in a demanding tone Steve’s only heard him use on suspects who don’t comply with orders. It’s never been directed at Steve before, but he’s pretty sure he can get used to it.

Another hard strike to Steve’s left side has Steve crying out. “Three!” 

“Oh no, no. Gotta start over, Stevie. You should have started counting from the beginning.”

“Bucky, that’s not fair!” Steve protests.

“What’s that?” Bucky asks. 

An audible crack echoes throughout the dungeon and the sting in Steve’s backside flares from Bucky’s latest blow.

“One!” Steve practically shouts as the bite of the lick sinks into his skin.

“Good boy,” Bucky murmurs, rubbing the paddle in soft circles over the sore spot he just struck.

Steve exhales a little until the paddle strikes the same spot again.

“Fuck! Two… two,” he repeats, clenching his eyes shut.

Bucky chuckles and presses forward, his nose grazing the back of Steve’s neck. A small whimper slips from Steve’s lips. It’d be so easy to just lean back against Bucky’s broad chest. 

But that’s not what they agreed to, and Steve wants to honor his word. He wants to be good.

“Mmm, you’re really responsive,” Bucky says, tracing the edge of the paddle over Steve’s entire backside. “I can’t imagine how you’d react if I was striking your bare ass.”

Steve bites his bottom lip because now _that’s_ in his head. His mouth drops open and he gasps out numbers as Bucky delivers strikes three, four, and five in hard, rapid succession.

By the time Steve grits out number seven, sweat is beading at his temples and he can feel trickles of it running down his chest and beneath his pits.

The acoustics of the dungeon amplify the sound of Steve’s heavy breathing, and he vaguely wonders if this is how he might pant if Bucky were fucking him. But it’s hard to really hold onto any one thought because the heat in Steve’s ass has taken over his focus. It hurts, it feels good, it’s too much, and it’s not enough. 

Three more and they’ll be done, but Steve already knows he wants more. So much more.

Bucky’s hand combs over the top of his head and the unexpected gentle stroking feels so good Steve practically purrs. Bucky's fingers slide down to the base of his hairline and Steve starts to drift. He gasps in surprise when Bucky’s hand suddenly closes tight around the back of his neck. 

Steve never lets anyone get the upper hand, especially like this. This is an unabashed show of power and under any other circumstance he would reach around and forcibly remove the hand holding him. 

But right now, in this moment, Steve doesn’t want to.

“I’m gonna make these last three hard. Think you can take it, Stevie?” Bucky asks. There’s a mocking tone in his voice, but also a tentativeness, like he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

And Steve kind of wants to prove he’s strong enough, sturdy enough, to take anything Bucky wants to dish out.

“I can do this all day,” he says breathlessly.

Bucky’s grip tightens, and Steve has to be bite back a moan to not appear completely wanton. 

The sound of the paddle coming down firmly on his ass is louder than the rest, and Steve’s eyes go wide as the burn spreads tenfold.

“I can’t hear you,” Bucky says, waiting.

“Eight,” Steve gasps. It hurts. It really hurts, but Steve is inexplicably rock hard. His ass is on fire, but it’s his dick that’s really throbbing. 

Bucky makes an approving noise and then the wood strikes Steve hard and quick across both cheeks.

Steve yelps, his hands clenching the frames so tight he can feel his nails making indentations into the wood.

“Nine!”

“Very good, Stevie. I’m a little impressed.”

A new type of warmth spreads throughout Steve and it has little to do with his inflamed ass.

“Don’t let that go to your head. Still have one more.”

Steve nods and bites his lip hard, waiting for the mother of all paddle strikes. 

When Bucky hits this time, it’s light and almost playful. 

Steve frowns. “What was that?”

“Number ten, you goof. I’m not a complete asshole.”

Steve huffs. 

“Unless, of course you want me to be one?” Bucky asks in a low, raspy tone that sounds more affected than before.

Steve’s dick clearly likes the idea of Bucky pretending to be an asshole, but it’s much easier to just goad him into the role than ask for it. 

“I told you I can take it,” he says with a challenge. 

“Sounds like someone likes it,” Bucky sing-songs.

“Bucky!”

The swift crack of the paddle over Steve’s sore ass is surprising and harsh. Harsher than all of the previous ones. 

Steve’s mouth drops open. His entire body is quivering.

The light thud of the paddle hitting the floor should bring relief, but all Steve can think about is if this was a one time deal. His mind races on how he can even begin to ask when Bucky leans in and wraps his arms around his torso. Steve mewls a little. His erection is straining uncomfortably against the confines of his khakis.

Bucky’s arms tighten around him and Steve can feel how fast Bucky’s heart is beating against his back and the hardness of his erection. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Bucky whispers in his ear.

Steve nods but everything inside of him is screaming _please don’t ask me to forget this happened because I can’t._

“Did you really like that?” 

Relief washes over Steve. “Yes.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, just stands there holding Steve for several minutes until both of their erections begin to flag.

When he finally pulls away, Steve can feel himself pouting. 

“Let go of the frames,” Bucky orders.

As Steve slowly drops his arms, the dull ache in his muscles finally registers. Bucky comes around to face Steve, gripping both of his shoulders. 

Steve’s face grows hot as self-consciousness sinks in. What the hell did they just do? And how pathetic did Steve look, getting all worked up over receiving corporal punishment from his partner?

“Hey, look at me,” Bucky says, lifting Steve’s chin so they’re looking eye-to-eye. “I really liked it too. And if you’re up for it, I’d like to talk about maybe doing this again...off the clock.”

The hopeful and nervous look in Bucky’s eyes assuage Steve’s insecurities and make his heartbeat a little faster. 

“I’d like that too. A lot.”


End file.
